


loving him was red

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, F/M, Menstrual Sex, Oral Sex, Period Sex, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: you’ve never had sex on your period, but when you find yourself heated during aunt flow’s visit while at an event with steve, the perfect opportunity arises for you to try it out.





	loving him was red

**Author's Note:**

> i based this p heavily on my own experiences with menstruation + other accounts i’ve heard. it is very important to remember that there is never one singular way to experience a period NOR is there a WRONG way, even if menstruating is impacted by health, poverty, and whathaveyou!! all ppl who have periods are individuals with intersecting health/economic/work statuses with varying degrees of flow, pain, etc. this has been ur daily menstrual health psa from lukis aka peachyteabuck.tumblr.com

Pro: you currently look fine as fuck, and are on a date to some Very Important Thing with Captain freaking America. **  
**

Con: He’s horny (because you look so hot) and won’t leave you alone about it.

Pro: He’s horny (because you look so hot), and you’re horny (because he looks so hot).

Con: You’re currently on your period. Not only that, but the heaviest day of it is today, meaning your current tampon is acting as a floodgate to the Red Sea. Aunt Flow. Blood Moon. Red Scare. Hellstorm. Bitch in Red. Crimson Tide. Shark Week.

You get the picture.

When he thinks no one’s looking, Steve slides his hands down to your ass. You tense and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Babe, stop,” you hiss through your teeth, but you don’t sound very convincing. A waiter comes by with glasses of champagne and you grab two. You’re gonna need them to get through the next few hours, both because the…whatever you’re at is boring as hell and because all you want to do is jump your boyfriend’s bones.

“Why?” Steve says lowly into your ear. You take another sip of champagne, trying to quell the desire in your stomach. “You look so hot, your tits and ass look so good. Can’t wait to get home and give you all the bruises you want. Can’t wait to make you cum under me. Just wanna fuck you until you can’t remember you own name, until you’re begging me to stop.”

You grab the table in front of you and moan, other patrons be damned.

“Babe,” you whimper. “Stop, seriously.”

He laughs a little. “What? Can’t take the heat, should’ve expected this. In that dress? You know, I can’t tell what’s hotter, you in or you wi-”

You take a large drink from one of the glasses and turn to face him. You use your babysitting voice, the one you use with Peter when he pulls some dumb shit and no one has the courage to shame him. Damn Tony, doesn’t want to grow a spine and discipline Peter for fear of making him hate the man. “Steven Grant Rogers, I am on my period, and unless you want to beat your meat on the couch tonight, I’d recommend you cut it out.”

He’s stunned, a little. You snapping at him is extremely uncommon, you’re normally a total sweetheart with him (Who wouldn’t be?). Steve’s mouth hangs open a little as you turn back to face the crowd.

You engage with the rest of the Avengers who came - Sam, Tony, Pepper, and a few other people who you’d been wanting to talk to. A designer, some singers, a movie producer. You have lively conversations and Steve’s hand stays safely above your waist the whole time.

This time, it feels awkward. Not…sexual, like usual.

Now it’s just supportive, a way to tell you know he’s there. That’s it.

You feel bad, so bad. He was just telling you how attracted he was to you and you literally snapped at him like he was a petulant child! God, what’s wrong with you? Why were you so angry out of nowhere!

Oh, you’re in your period.

Right.

Once you’re too tired to stand in your heels, Steve moves you into the limo that’ll take you back to Stark tower. He holds your hand the entire way back, even carries your heels for you once you make it through the entrance.

He’s so amazing. And sweet. And kind. You want him to rearrange your guts.

You’ve been together long enough that he knows the minute you get into your shared apartment you want your dress unzipped so you can hunch over a take a deep breath. He guesses (correctly) that you need it undone even more so now that you’re bloated. When comes behind you to grab at it, you sigh.

“I’m so sorry for losing my self control earlier this evening…it’s just…”

You turn around, facing him. He looks so sad and you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. Or stepped on a flower. Or thrown a fire blanket over the sun. Or slammed a baby’s hand in a car door.

In short, you’re a horrible person and all you want to do right now is cry dramatically surrounded by roses and candles. Or maybe while you stress eat banana bread.

“I’m so fucking horny when I’m on my period, and I’ve always just…I know guys find it so gross and frankly, I guess I unders-”

Steve tilts your chin up with his knuckles. It’s a sweet gesture, grounding. You stop talking, enchanted by his beautiful eyes. “I don’t find it gross at all.”

You gulp, remaining silent as he spoke. What?

“Let me fuck you, please. I find you so beautiful, and a natural and healthy body function isn’t going to change that.” The dress slips down your body and he first kisses down your chest, then your stomach, then lands on his knees right in front of your pussy. The dress, with its deep, wide neckline didn’t allow for a bra, so he skips right down to your panties. Menstruating had made your lips extra sensitive, so you told your stylist specifically to give you a simply black cotton panty.

Steve, someone who has seen you in much fancier, much more expensive, and/or much sexier lingerie, doesn’t seem to mind. He still pulls them down with his teeth, and massages your inner thighs. You want to look away so badly, so worried about what he’ll say when he finds the string of your tampon, or if he sees your more pronounced belly due to bloating.

When the panties hit the floor, you want to scream. Why is he doing this? Why does he find you sexy?

“Okay,” you finally get out. You immediately regret your response. Okay!? What was he asking you, what he was getting for dinner? You could at least say please!

You try to breathe, to calm down. But you can’t. You absolutely cannot calm the fuck down.

“Open your legs a little for me, babe,” he whispers. It’s low, calm. The kind of voice you’d use if you’re trying to pet a stray cat on the street. He’s trying to get your heart to stop racing, for your palms stop sweating.

You follow his orders, opening your knees a little bit, attempting to relax your muscles in the process. He coaxes the tampon string down from where you tucked it in, pulling it out slowly.

When he pulls it away, it’s a deep, ugly brown. Not earthy, or some deep coffee-like brown, or a beautiful oak in a desk at Ikea.

It’s gross. Just plain gross.

You wince a little at the sight, and he tosses it into the trash can under your desk.

“Now that we have that out of the way,” he inches his strong hands back up your legs, digging a little into the sore muscles.

Right before they can ghost your clit, you sigh.

“Wait,” you say. Steve hands stop and you close your eyes.

You can’t look at him, you’re so embarrassed.

But you want to do this, and you want to feel good while it happens. “Lean me against a wall, it feels better on my lower back if I have something to lean against…also I’m really sensitive right now, so going slow would be appreciated.”

Steve nods, standing up and pressing you into the closest wall. “Anything else, darling?”

He’s eye-level with you now, and fuck you love him so much.

You shake your head. “No…just, thank you…for this.”

He descends again and smiles. “Anything for you, my love.”

First he circles a thumb around your clit, inserting some of his middle finger into you. It feels so good, especially since you haven’t gotten off at all this week.

You blame it on being too busy, but you know why.

It’s never something you could understand, why you were always so ashamed of being on your period. Maybe it was societal influence, maybe it was because once a kid pulled a tampon out of your purse in high school and called you a she-demon, maybe it was because once your period started while having sex with your most recent ex-boyfriend and he called you a nasty bitch and then broke up with you…while you were both still naked.

Whatever it was, you knew three things:

One, you have the best boyfriend in the world.

Nope, scratch that, the universe.

Two, your boyfriend cares for you a lot and wants you to be happy.

Three, whatever he’s doing is incredibly erotic and you love it.

It’s absolute ecstasy, the way he pumps his fingers in and out of you in rhythm with circles around your clit. You knead your breasts and moan lewdly, and it only drives Steve to work harder.

When you cum, you cum hard. He fucks you through it with his fingers, smiling at the amount of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “That was so good.”

He chuckles. “Glad I could be of service.”

You laugh a little, running your hands through his hair. It’s thick, golden, warm. He’s like the sun.

You bite your lip, preparing to speak.

But he does so before you can. “Want to go to the bed?”

It’s sounds like such an innocent question, but you know better.

You nod, letting out a deep exhale. “Just be warned, changing my center of gravity is gonna…it’s gonna be weird…”

Steve laughs a little again. “Babe, I know what I’m getting into.”

  
He then picks you up and carries you to the bed. The second he lays you down, you start to feel that familiar feeling you can only describe as a stomach ache, but if it was also a waterfall.

The second you start to look how you feel, Steve becomes concerned.

“You okay?” he asks, eyeing you up and down to look for injury.

You squeeze your eyes together. “Yeah…just feeling weird.”

Steve laughs a little. His hands were stained with your blood, and since he had picked you up, smudged handprints riddled your body. You thought you might be disgusted, or he might be disgusted.

But it was beautiful, art. A painting made with you, by Steve, on you.

A masterpiece.

Steve seems to have the same thought. “Should draw this and sell it to that damned museum we were just at…hang it up for all the world to see just how beautiful you are…”

You think Steve is about to just fuck you, and you’re totally okay with that.

Not expecting to get fucked and then getting fucked is a wonderful surprise, one you welcome.

But then he kisses down your navel again, and lightly licks and nips at your clit.

The minitrations illicit loud and broken moans out of you. Your fingers fly to the back of his head, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His blood-stained hands hold you hips up, keeping them from bucking. It’s good, it’s so good.

He removes one, and begins to fuck his fingers in and out you. It’s good, your clit in his mouth, his fingers in your cunt.

You cum with a cry. If the first time made you see stars, this time you’re able to identify the Big Dipper. Before the orgasm was surprising, almost juvenile. It reminded you of getting fingered on the bleachers, or in a bathroom.

This one makes you feel like an adult. An actual, real life adult woman with actual, real life adult woman desires.

“Fuck,” is all you can muster.   
  


Steve crawls up to you, resting part of his body on your chest, which is still heaving. He places a hand on your hip, his thumb rubbing supportively.

“Was hoping you’d say that,” he says, smiling. God, you want to hit him.

Not in a sexual way, though. Not right now, at least.

You groan a little at his gloating. He looks like a cheshire cat. “Shut up and fuck me, you insolent bastard.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says before positioning himself at your entrance.

Despite his sarcastic nature, he watches you for any sign of discomfort while he slowly enters you. It’s sweet, and sickeningly slow.

You moan, wrapping your legs around his waist to give him a better angle. This is exactly what you needed to make you feel less shitty, some good ole fuckin’ with your exceptionally attractive boyfriend.

By the end, you two are a moaning mess. You finish again, your hand on your clit and Steve kissing your neck. This time, the crystal clear pleasure is gone, and you feel like a giant fuzzy cloud of “holy fucking Jesus H Christ that was amazing.”

While your pussy pulses around him, Steve cums inside you. When he pulls out and collapses next to you, you’re finally clear-headed enough to take in the scene around you.

It looks like you should section off the bed with caution tape. Steve’s dick, hands, and face are absolutely covered in blood, as is the bed.

That’s when it hits you. White sheets. Deep red and brown clumps of your uterine lining. An absolutely perfect but sometimes forgetful boyfriend.

“Steve, babe?” you question, attempting to pry him away from the edge of sleep.

“Mmmrf,” is all he says, face down, head resting between your breasts.

“Did you forget to pull a towel down before we fucked?”

He lifts his head, smile sated. “Maybe.”

You sigh, and let his head fall back down. Finding a way to non-suspiciously change your blood sheets is a problem for tomorrow-you. Right-now-you just wants to run your fingers through Steve’s hair, his light snores filling your room and giving you something to fall asleep to.

“You know I’m gonna make you do this next time, too, right?” You ask, suddenly just as tired as Steve looks.

He nods a little, then turns his head so you can hear him. He kisses your breast before he speaks. “Of course, baby. Would do anything for you, especially when it comes you makin’ love to ya.”

You smile. “Good. Because after that, there’s no way I’m ever letting you go.”

Steve chuckles. “Ditto, babe.”


End file.
